


A Desperate Desire

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Accidental Confessions [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Anal Sex, Anathema Device Ships Aziraphale/Crowley, Angel Wings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Anathema Device are Friends (Good Omens), Aziraphale gets a little crazy, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), But it's okay, Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Gratuitous Smut, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Lust, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Sex, Smut, Spell Failure, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), like it's really minor though you guys, nothing actually happens, okay i think that's enough tags, they're so stupid, until later when everyone's head is on straight of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: Since the world didn't end Aziraphale has been hoping for things to move to the next level with Crowley. But every time he tries to get close, the demon seems to shy away. Aziraphale begins to think that maybe Crowley just isn't attracted to him that way. He decides, against his friend Anathema's advice, to try witchcraft as a way of making himself more confident, attractive, and desirable. It, of course, goes wrong, because the angel misses the footnote that warns him not to mix magic and alcohol.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Accidental Confessions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554925
Comments: 53
Kudos: 432





	A Desperate Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something I started writing one day when I got an idea about Aziraphale trying to use magic to spark Crowley's interest in him physically, and oh, shit, WHEN DID IT GET TO 16K WORDS?!
> 
> Yeah, uh...I don't know how that happened. But there's feelings and smut, so I'm sure you'll forgive me. :3
> 
> If you enjoy the story, please check out my blog, http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you can find links to my original novels, social media, and more! <3 I also live for your comments, so please let me know what you thought!

Post Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, a number of things changed in the world of an angel and a demon who had challenged Heaven and Hell and walked away with their lives and their freedom.

For one, the angel named Aziraphale had begun to spread his wings (though not literally, as this would have caused quite a stir in Soho). This metaphorical spreading of wings took the form of new hobbies and experiences, many of them spent in the company of the demon, Crowley.

Having nearly lost the entire world (and the demon, who was the most important thing in it, in Aziraphale's opinion) had given the angel a newfound desire to appreciate as much as he could about the planet they'd helped save and all the opportunities therein. He found himself, therefore, asking his much more worldly best friend to show him some of the things he'd been stubbornly avoiding over the millennia. 

He found that he rather enjoyed cinema, for an example. Although visual representations would never replace a good book for him, he quickly became enamoured with the option of _watching_ some of his favorite stories unfold. Crowley showed him everything from modern recorded presentations of Shakespeare's greatest works, to more cinematographic blockbusters based on the works of Tolkien, Lewis, and many others. 

The mobile phone was a suggestion of Crowley's that Aziraphale had a difficult time adopting, but had been determined to learn if only to please the demon. It was slow-going to be certain, but he ended up becoming rather fond of "emojis" and loved sending them in text messages to Crowley. (The little snake was his favorite, though he wished it were black and red instead of green.)

He'd joined a cooking class and had been delighted when Crowley had actually approached him about attending as well. (It transpired that the demon was actually quite gifted in the culinary arts.) He'd gone to several live concerts with Crowley and found that, while he still preferred classical orchestra, there was actually a lot to be said for some of these modern artists the demon enjoyed. He'd even let the visibly giddy Crowley take him shopping for new clothes, although on this front he'd found himself struck with cold feet and had yet to actually wear any of the new items his friend had insisted would suit him.

Being free to do as they wished and see each other as often as they liked was, in Aziraphale's opinion, well worth all they'd gone through. He was _quite_ happy with this new, ever-growing, ever-changing life they were experiencing together.

Well...except for one thing.

It had been nearly ten months since the Apocalypse had been averted, and while the angel and the demon had been spending exponentially more time together the...nature of their relationship hadn't truly changed at all. 

That wasn't to say that Aziraphale was _unhappy_ with the nature of their relationship. It was simply that, after six thousand years and surviving the literal end of the world, not to mention being free of Heaven and Hell, he'd rather thought said relationship might progress to something more...intimate.

As it was, they hadn't done much more than hold hands, and even that was rather rare. Aziraphale had thought that perhaps they both just needed a bit of time after their respective near-executions to get their heads back in order. But as the weeks went on and Crowley didn't make even the most innocent of moves forward, the angel began to wonder if the demon simply...wasn't interested in him in that way.

It was well within his own power, of course, for Aziraphale to make a move, to test the waters as it were. However, there was simply no denying that he was plainly and simply terrified to do so. What if, after all this time, after all the waiting he'd been forced to endure at the angel's hand, Crowley had decided…

Aziraphale knew Crowley _loved_ him, though they'd never expressed the sentiment aloud. What Aziraphale was worried about was that Crowley didn't _want_ him.

It was this thought that tortured him one evening as the pair sat side-by-side on the sofa in the bookshop's back room, munching on gourmet popcorn and watching The Princess Bride on a television Crowley had bought for the shop. (When Aziraphale had finally expressed an interest in films, Crowley had practically miracled himself to the nearest electronics shop to pick one out.) The angel was enjoying the movie, but kept getting distracted by how close - and yet too far away - his demon was.

Crowley was splayed, as always, with arms and legs taking up as much room as possible for such lean limbs. Aziraphale sat, as always, in a most prim and proper manner, hands on his lap. The ceramic bowl of popcorn sat between them, taunting the angel.

While Crowley's eyes - thankfully not hidden from the angel by those wretched glasses - were fixed on the screen during the sword fight atop the Cliffs of Insanity, Aziraphale discreetly assessed the situation. He took particular note of the way Crowley leaned back into the couch with his long arms draped over the back of the cushions. 

_Okay,_ the angel thought, psyching himself up. _Let's try something…_

Doing his best to make the decision to move seem as natural and casual as he could, Aziraphale lifted the popcorn bowl up onto his lap and scooted over, closing the distance until his body was nearly flush with Crowley's and he was, effectively, tucked beneath the demon's arm.

He was quite certain he felt the demon's body tense, but a moment later he seemed fine again and Aziraphale thought, _Okay, good...this is good…_

And he waited to see what, if anything, Crowley would do.

Forty minutes later the credits were rolling and the answer was 'nothing'. Beyond simply accepting Aziraphale's physical presence, Crowley had done absolutely nothing. 

Correction: he hadn't done _nothing_ . What he _had_ done was all but leapt from the sofa the moment the film was done. "Cup 'o tea, angel?" he'd asked, already halfway to the kitchen. 

Aziraphale frowned after him with a heavy feeling in his stomach. He pushed himself up and followed the demon, carrying the popcorn bowl with him to deposit in the sink. "I'd rather thought something a bit stronger," he suggested with a forced smile.

"Gotcha covered, angel," Crowley replied immediately, and with a smooth motion he'd plucked a bottle of whiskey and the ingredients for hot cocoa from the cupboard. 

Aziraphale's heart fluttered at the sight of his beloved demon creating a sweet-with-a-bite treat for him, and he resolved himself to keep trying his luck at physical affections. Slowly, cautiously, he sidled up beside Crowley to watch him work and carefully slid his fingers up under the demon's coat to stroke the small of his back. 

This time he was _certain_ there was a reaction, because the spoon Crowley had been using to stir the cocoa had jumped, fallen, and clattered to the counter-top in a small spray of liquefied chocolate. It was a decidedly encouraging reaction, until Crowley seemed to regain himself. He grinned at his clumsiness, waved away the mess, and suggested - with a positively cheerful tone - "Why don't you go pick another movie for us to watch while I whip you up a mug cake to go with your drink?"

Aziraphale pulled his hand back slowly, not sure how to feel about the demon's words. On the one hand, it was a rather sweet offer, but on the other (and given the circumstances the angel had been _attempting_ to elicit) what it _sounded_ like Crowley had said was, "Christ, angel, shoo and stop touching me."

From behind the demon's back the angel bit his lip. _Oh. He...he doesn't want me touching him then… O-okay… That's…_

All at once it was too much. It was all Aziraphale could do to force a shaky smile on his face and say, "Actually, you know, on second thought, I really am rather tired this evening. I think perhaps I'll just crawl into bed with a book."

The spoon nearly fell from Crowley's fingers again as he turned to face the angel with incredulity. "You're...tired?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

In that moment this was simply not a game that Aziraphale was up for playing. So he sighed rather more haughtily than he otherwise would have, and responded with a bit more barb than was usual for him: "It _does_ happen from time to time!"

Crowley blinked several times, clearly surprised and confused by the uncharacteristic outburst. Aziraphale felt horrible, but somehow couldn't bring himself to spit out an apology. Instead he averted his gaze and fought to keep his lower lip from wobbling.

"Right, well…" Crowley murmured, running long fingers through his fiery hair. "I guess I'll, uh...leave you to it then."

He was past Aziraphale and halfway to the door when the angel realized what a twit he was being and tried to backtrack. "Crowley, wait, I-" he called, having turned to give chase, but the little doorbell was already jingling.

"Call ya t'morrow, angel," came the hasty reply as Crowley all but threw himself out the door.

Aziraphale made it to said door just in time to see the Bentley speed away and curse himself for a fool. 

"Fine form, foolish Principality," he sighed in frustration. "Bloody brilliant. You're sure to win him over that way."

* * *

Outside a flat in Mayfair, a demon sat, parked in his Bentley, desperately trying to work out what he'd done wrong. He was certain he'd done _something_ wrong, because it was what he did: he fucked up and he fucked up and he _fucked up_.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel and groaned. Things had been going so well these past months. He'd been careful - so very careful - to go at the angel's pace. He'd held himself firmly in check. They'd been having fun, enjoying being able to spend as much time together as they wanted and if there was, perhaps, an aspect to their relationship that was simply not there yet, well...Crowley was okay with that because he would take whatever he could get of his angel. 

Then Aziraphale had gotten so close on the sofa that Crowley had immediately forgotten how to breathe. It shouldn't have been a big deal - he'd been touched more intimately by strangers on the subway for Hell's sake - but he'd been longing for Aziraphale's touch for _so long_ that it had taken everything he had inside himself to keep from flinging his entire body into the angel's lap and snogging him silly.

He'd thought he was safe once the ending of the movie gave him a valid excuse to move away, but then Aziraphale had followed, and when he'd touched his back like that… Crowley shuddered against the driver's set just remembering. He knew the angel hadn't intended such a reaction - he surely thought that the touch had been a simple, friendly one - but Crowley had felt himself coming undone none-the-less. It had been a (demonic) miracle that he'd been coherent enough to come up with a reasonable plan to get the angel away before he exploded. 

But then... _something_ had apparently gone wrong, because Crowley could see the strange mix of hurt and frustration in Aziraphale's eyes. He'd be _damned_ (again) if he could figure out what that something was, though!

Crowley snarled and banged his head against the steering wheel one last time before throwing himself bodily out of the Bentley. 

He'd make it up to the angel in the morning, he told himself. He'd…he'd make him crepes. Homemade crepes from the recipe they'd learned together. Yeah. That would do it. No doubt about it.

* * *

"You're looking for a _what?"_

Aziraphale flushed a bright scarlet and wished he'd talked Anathema out of this 'video chat' thing that had become a weekly ritual between them. His accidental admission would have been embarrassing enough all by itself if his friend couldn't _see_ how truly mortified he was.

"You know," he stammered, looking everywhere except at the bemused witch on the phone's screen. "I'm suddenly coming to realize that I've got rather a lot of work to do around the bookshop so perhaps I should let you get on with-"

"You wait right the hell there, Aziraphale," the witch demanded in a tone that brokered no argument. On the other side of the screen Anathema took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and seemed to be counting to herself. After a few beats she opened her eyes again and seemed to have managed to rearrange her face into something more concerned than aghast. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. You just...surprised me. You're my friend and I want to help, so how about you give me a little more to go on?"

Aziraphale swallowed and looked down at his feet while he considered. He supposed the damage had been done now anyway, so he may as well follow the situation through. 

"I've been-" He cleared his throat. "I've been browsing some of my old witchcraft books for spells that enhance…" He cleared his throat again and gnawed on his lip for a few heartbeats. "Lust," he finally finished, looking all the more pitiful for the way he couldn't meet his friend's eye.

"Aziraphale." Anathema's voice was firm, demanding he look at her. When he did he saw something kind and almost sisterly in her eyes. "First of all, any spell involving love or lust is extremely delicate and dangerous, so I would strongly discourage you from taking that path. Second of all, why don't you tell me what this sudden interest is about? You can talk to me, you know. Your secrets are always safe with me." 

"And me!" Newton called from the background where he was making tea. Anathema rolled her eyes, but there was a fond smile on her lips. 

Aziraphale sighed. He lifted the phone and fumbled with it for a moment (giving Anathema a lovely view of the bookshop's skylight in the process) before settling down in his armchair with it and letting out a frustrated puff of air. 

"Okay, fine," he decided. "There's...there's someone special whom I love very much, and I know they love me too-"

"You can just say 'Crowley', you know," Anathema told him with a raised eyebrow. 

Aziraphale all but choked. "O-oh! Is it-? I mean- I hadn't realized anyone-"

The witch chuckled, not unkindly. Her bespectacled beau turned and leaned over her shoulder to raise _both_ eyebrows at the angel. "Even _I've_ figured that one out, Aziraphale," he snorted before moving to sit beside his girlfriend. 

"Oh." The angel didn't think he could get any redder.

"Go on," Anathema insisted. 

Aziraphale shook his head to straighten himself out. "Right well, it's just...I've loved him for a terribly long time, you see, and I was rather hoping to...to take things to the next level, as it were, but-" Damn it all, he couldn't wring his hands while holding the phone like this and his anxious energy was giving him a nervous tick. "But-I-feel-like-perhaps-he-isn't-actually-attracted-to-me-in-that-way," he spat out all at once so that it was practically a single word.

Anathema folded her hands in front of her mouth and seemed to lean into them, watching Aziraphale carefully. He stared back at her for a few moments, trying not to look like the anxiety-ridden wreck he absolutely was, but finally cracked under the pressure. "Dear lord, woman, tell me what you're thinking, please!" 

Anathema cleared her throat and seemed to take great care when choosing her words. "Well, firstly, I have to say that I've seen the way Crowley looks at you, and so I can scarcely imagine that your fears are founded."

  
Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue immediately, but the witch raised a finger to stop him. 

"Secondly," she continued, "I'm just having a hard time working my head around what you're looking to accomplish by using witchcraft. You were….what? Hoping to use magic to _make_ him attracted?" The look she'd finally settled on was justifiably judgemental.

Aziraphale felt himself go from red to white in a single breath. "Oh good gracious, no!" he exclaimed. "No, no, my girl, I could never do such a thing! It's-" He bit at his lip again and cringed when he realized he'd worked it raw. "It's _me_ I was hoping to change."

Anathema's gaze softened again. "Aziraphale, I'm quite certain Crowley doesn't want you to change for him."

The angel sighed and hung his head. "I just thought that, perhaps if I were a little bolder, or more confident, or...or conventionally attractive, or-"

And now there were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, which made Anathema sigh because what could possibly be sadder than a teary-eyed, lovesick angel?

"Aziraphale, listen to me, okay?" She spoke with the tone of someone keen to save a loved one from what would inevitably be an unprecedented disaster. "You are sweet, and smart, and possibly the kindest person I've ever met in my life, and you're much more attractive than you give yourself credit for. You don't need witchcraft to...to trick yourself into being what you think Crowley wants. You just need to let him know what _you_ want, and I'm sure it will all come together."

Aziraphale knew the words were meant to be kind and came from a place of caring, but they felt like heavy weights wrapped around his shoulders. 

"You're right, of course," the angel lied, forcing what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face. "Thank you for the advice, Anathema dear." 

He wrapped up the call as quickly as he could after that, because he had work to do. He had, after all, an entire table piled high with spell-books and witches journals to go through yet, and as an entity older than the Earth itself he hardly needed the permission of a single human woman to do whatever it took to get what he wanted.

* * *

Crowley parked in his usual (illegal) spot outside the bookshop and took a deep, steadying breath. Then he smiled to himself. It was going to be fine. He could feel it. He'd spent the majority of the night and early morning working on the crepe recipe he'd found online and was confident that he'd gotten it absolutely perfect. The fruits of his labor (plus some actual, sweetened fruits) were currently packed in a special warmer-bag that he'd miracled to keep the food the perfect temperature. A second separate bag had generous quantities of sugared cream, brunch whine, and (just for good measure) some of the lovely little stuffed pastries from that new place down the street the angel had recently fallen in love with.

He'd shown up early enough to be sure that the shop was most definitely not open yet, and had brought two steaming mugs of a lovely Earl Grey just in case Aziraphale really had been tired and slept last night (though the demon sincerely doubted it). 

So it was with a veritable pile of peace offerings and a (mostly) confident grin that Crowley snapped his fingers and strode into the bookshop. 

Only to stop dead in the doorway the moment he'd closed it. 

His immediate thought was that there was a stranger in the shop, and why the _fuck_ was there a stranger in the shop at this time of morning, browsing the historical non-fiction section like he owned the place?

Then the stranger's head turned and it was all Crowley could do to fumble his bags blindly to the floor because the stranger _did_ own the place.

"A-Aziraphale?"

He was wearing (to Crowley's genuine delight and astonishment) one of the outfits they'd purchased during that one shopping trip from a few weeks back. It was significantly less clothing than the angel had worn in well over two millennia. A plain white scoop-neck tee was topped over by a light blue short-sleeved button-up that, rather than _being_ buttoned up, was hanging fashionably open around the angel's hips. Light beige trousers hung a little loose and pooled around a pair of dark blue runners on Aziraphale's feet. He had one hand stuffed in the pocket of the trousers while the other held up the book he'd been reading with a surprising lack of delicacy. There were no silly little glasses, and no tartan bow tie to be seen, and his fluffy white hair was stylishly mussed as though he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. 

When he spotted Crowley his eyes went a shade darker and a smile that could have been described as predatory spread across his lips. 

"Aziraphale?" Crowley repeated. His voice was hoarse. "I-issat you?"

Aziraphale laughed. It was an odd laugh; a bit too...throaty. He placed the book on a random shelf and began to move across the room. "Who else would it be, Crowley dear?" His voice was like melted chocolate.

Crowley found himself quite unable to articulate his thoughts. "Wh-wha' happened?" he managed.

By way of response Aziraphale stalked closer, and even the way he walked was different, almost disturbingly 'alpha-male' in nature. Crowley was beginning to think that he'd stumbled into an episode of The Twilight Zone when suddenly Aziraphale was right in front of him and, without warning, the demon found himself being slammed backward into the shop door. The little bell above them jingled as Crowley helped in surprise and felt a powerful forearm pin him across the chest.

Aziraphale was half a head shorter than Crowley, but somehow in that moment, in that position, even looking up at the demon, the angel exuded pure raw power. His crystal blue eyes were flashing, and that predatory grin was back in a big way.

"Been waiting for you," the angel purred in that chocolatey voice that was just a tad domineering. "How very rude of you to keep me so long."

Crowley felt like a fish desperately opening and closing its mouth, searching for what it needed to survive the moment. "A-angel, I don't- I mean it's- What is going-?"

"Enough talk," Aziraphale growled.

"Angel, what're you- _Mmmnnff!_ "

Crowley's eyes blew open wide enough to be in serious danger of popping out of his skull as Aziraphale's lips crushed against his own. His brain short circuited when the angel's tongue forcefully pressed through those lips to claim the demon's mouth without even a second's warning or hesitation. 

It was a complete system crash. Crowley stopped breathing, stopped blinking, his heart stopped beating, and all possible thought processes ground to an inexorable halt. Through the numb pile of mush his body had become he felt Aziraphale's free hand wind up into the hair at the nape of his neck and fist there. 

Then - oh _fuck_ \- the angel _pulled,_ angling Crowley's head to bare his throat. Aziraphale struck like a starving animal, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there and pulling a wild yelp from the demon. 

Crowley's system restarted all at once, but the sudden influx of processing power had him struggling between confusion, panic, and a maddeningly power arousal. 

"A-angel!" he gasped as Aziraphale sucked hard on the mark he'd made. Crowley wasn't quick enough to suppress a moan, but afterward he did manage to cry out, "What the fuck is happening right now?!"

Aziraphale licked a long strip along Crowley's collarbone before shooting him one of those frankly quite disturbing smiles. "I should think that would be rather obvious," he purred, and dove down again to bite - harder this time - on the other side of the demon's throat.

"Shit!" Crowley cried (but also shuddered with the pleasure of the pain). "Shit, _shit_ , angel! What's gotten into you?"

Aziraphale finally relaxed his arm from Crowley's chest, but only so he could use both hands to rip the demon's shirt out from the waist of his trousers and push firm, rough fingers underneath, burning the skin with his touch. "Wrong question," Aziraphale growled - honest-to-Someone, _growled_ . His fingers punished Crowley's skin as he spoke. "The proper question is-" He paused and leaned in close to Crowley's ear. "-what's getting into _you?_ " He punctuated the last word with a thrust of his hips that drove the proof of his arousal hard into Crowley's leg. 

The sound that came from Crowley's throat would be denied by the demon for the remnants of eternity. But at the same time gears were turning in his head and he was coming to the undeniable conclusion that something was very, very wrong. 

"Wait, angel," he groaned, raising his hands to push against Aziraphale's shoulders. The angel didn't so much as budge or, truly, even seem to notice the demon's resistance. His teeth were busy ripping at the collar of Crowley's shirt and his too-hard fingers had travelled back down to hook beneath the waistband of too-tight trousers. "Angel, come on, stop for a second!" Crowley pushed harder, and this time he was noticed but scarcely acknowledged. 

"You want this as much as I do," Aziraphale rumbled as he tore at the demon's shirt and yanked too-tight trousers down his legs. "Don't even try to deny it." To prove his point the angel grabbed a fistful of the erection straining Crowley's pants, eliciting a yelp that was part arousal, part panic attack. 

"N-no denials here," Crowley admitted willingly. "But not like this, angel. There's something wrong with you!" He was shoving as hard as he could now, but _fuck_ , had Aziraphale always been this strong? 

Aziraphale looked up, met Crowley's gaze, and made the demon's eyes go wide with alarm. The bright blue of the angel's irises had gone dark, nearly black, and was swirling threateningly, like stormy waters at sea. "The only thing that's wrong with me," he hissed in a very un-Aziraphale voice, "is that I'm not fucking you into oblivion yet."

Crowley's heart nearly stopped again, for a variety of different reasons. Coming face-to-face with the positively _demonic_ look in his angel's eyes had him making his decision in an instant.

" 'M sorry, Aziraphale," he croaked out, "but this is for your own good."

With a flick of his wrist the shop's antique - and incredibly solid - cash register flew from its place on the nearby desk and slammed, unceremoniously, into the back of Aziraphale's head. 

* * *

Crowley paced back and forth through the book shop in a state so agitated he may not have even been visible on the human eye's spectrum.

Aziraphale sat slumped on a chair in the middle of the shop's floor, wrists and ankles bound to the legs by a cursed wrong that Crowley hoped would be strong enough to contain the angel when he woke. For the time being, however, he was out cold, head hanging forward against his chest.

For the twenty-second time in as many minutes Crowley pressed two fingers to the angel's throat to make sure his corporation's heart was still beating. Not that he thought a blow to the head would truly harm Aziraphale, but it would be very, very bad if he were to be accidentally discorporated now. The idea that Heaven would ever let him leave again if he was forced to return was laughable at best.

Still breathing. Heart still beating. Good.

Back to the problem at hand.

Crowley resumed his agitated pacing.

He knew only two things for sure. The first was that the being tied to the chair in the middle of the bookshop was most assuredly Aziraphale. Crowley hadn't been talking out of his ass when he'd told the angel that he knew what he smelled like. Not to mention the fact that the angel had a unique signature created by the ever-present holy grace around him that was as obvious as the nose on Crowley's face. So, yes. Definitely Aziraphale.

The second thing the demon knew was that the being currently tied to a chair in the middle of the bookshop was _bloody well not Aziraphale_.

Crowley didn't have the slightest inkling as to what could have happened to the angel, but he was entirely confident in saying that Aziraphale would have never in a million years acted in such a way. 

Never mind the sudden (incredibly sexy) makeover. Never mind the sudden absolutely oozing levels of confidence. Never-even-mind the fact that he'd been positively _dripping_ in lust. No, the real proof as far as Crowley was concerned was the fact that Aziraphale hadn't hesitated for even a heartbeat when the demon had asked him to stop. If there was one thing in this world that Crowley was unabashedly confident in, it was the fact that Aziraphale would never _ever_ force him to do anything. _Anything_. 

So what had happened then? There had to be a reasonable explanation. 

Could Aziraphale be possessed? By an incubus, perhaps? Crowley wrinkled his nose. Could angels even _be_ possessed? Or would they 'explode' as Aziraphale himself had once suggested? 

It was a moot point anyway. Crowley knew without a shadow of doubt that he would be able to sense another presence in his best friend's body if one was, in fact, there. 

Not a possession then. A curse? Crowley scented the air of the shop with his serpent tongue. The smells were all familiar ones, except for a faint whiff of something strangely spicy, but he'd never heard of a curse smelling like hot sauce. 

Crowley scented again and narrowed his eyes. What _was_ that smell though? Aziraphale had never been a fan of too much spice in his food, and this, while faint, smelled like someone had dumped an entire jar of dried chills and cayenne pepper into a tablespoon of pasta sauce. It was coming from somewhere nearby…

He followed it like an animal tracking its next meal and found himself hovering over Aziraphale, frowning. He bent down slowly, leaned up toward the angel's hanging head, and scented once more. 

Yes. Whatever it was, the scent was coming from Aziraphale's gently wafting breath. What on Earth would the gourmet-paletted angel have been consuming with such a truly _painful_ -smelling odor? It wasn't food, or tea, or liquor, or-

_A potion?_ Crowley thought, and in the same moment that the thought began to coalesce into something approaching understanding, Aziraphale's eyes shot open. 

Crowley feel flat back on his arse at the suddenness and was quite grateful that no one was around to bear witness to the mouse-like squeak he'd emitted in the moment. 

It took roughly five seconds for the angel to assess his situation, and then a feral grin overtook his face. He struggled ineffectually ( _Thank fuck…_ ) and leered down at his demonic prey on the floor at his feet. 

"Oh, so this is how you want it, is it?" he growled, actually going so far as to bare his teeth. "That's fine, I can work with this, but you're going to have to do most of the work yourself, I'm afraid." His grin was absolutely lecherous and he licked his lips in the most sinful and suggestive possible way. 

Crowley swallowed hard, hating how his body was reacting to Non-Aziraphale's words and actions. _It's not really him,_ the demon told himself. _Those words aren't Aziraphale's. But oh, fuck...if they were…_

He caught himself biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and gave his head a violent shake in an attempt to rid himself of such thoughts. 

Aziraphale made a strange rumbling sound deep in his throat. "Come on over here, love… You know you want it…" He punctuated his sentiment with an upward thrust of his hips that brought attention to his once-again ready-and-willing state. Crowley's gaze lingered longer than he would have liked to admit before his face started to burn and he shook his head again, harder this time.

"S-shut up!" he snapped back, truly astounded by his own wit. "Aziraphale would never talk to me like that. Or anyone, for that matter!"

That devilish grin was back. "That was the _old_ Aziraphale," he purred. "The new one says whatever he wants and _does_ whatever he wants, and what he wants right now is to be sucking your co-"

" _Right, that's enough!_ " Crowley cried. He scrambled to his feet with both hands firmly pressed over his ears. He stalked away (as much as he could 'stalk' with the uncomfortable tightness in his pants impeding him), not knowing where he was going but knowing that he had to get away from the truly magnaminous temptation the angel was presenting before he cracked and gave in.

"Crowley, dearest…"

He stopped, wavered, resisted looking back, but hesitated because those last words had actually sounded properly like Aziraphale. His hands fell to his sides and he waited. 

"Darling, I apologize. I...I only wanted to be what I thought _you_ wanted. Because, you see, I've wanted so very badly to make love to you for such a terribly long time now…"

The skin on the back of Crowley's neck prickled. He found he was unconsciously flexing and relaxing his hands over and over. The words ' _make love to you_ ' were ringing in his ears. 

"I'm so sorry, my darling, my dearest love. Please, come and untie me and we'll start over, okay? Let me show you how much I love you. Let me show you how _good_ I can make you feel…"

Crowley felt a warm shudder go through his entire body. He almost cried with the need to turn around and do exactly what his angel bade him. But he couldn't. He just couldn't, because he'd heard that sinful lilt on the word 'good' and knew it was nothing more than a trick. And even though that soft, familiar voice was promising something he'd been fantasizing about for nearly the entire lifetime of the human race, he couldn't do it knowing that it wasn't _really_ what Aziraphale wanted. 

"I'm gonna fix whatever happened to you, angel," he said without turning around. "I promise."

Then he practically ran to the loft above the shop with Aziraphale shouting positively obscene things after him. 

Crowley stormed into the angel's small kitchen, slammed his hands on the counter-top, and took several deep breaths to steady his frayed nerves. Then he took several more. When he felt like he could think again he snapped his fingers, soundproofing the shop from the outside world so that the early-morning humans wouldn't hear Aziraphale's increasingly loud and lewd screaming. As an afterthought he snapped again to soundproof the loft from the shop so _he_ wouldn't have to hear either. The sudden silence was unsettling, but not nearly as unsettling as listening to the erotic ramblings coming from his angel's mouth. 

He took a few more deep breaths while trying desperately not to imagine actually doing some of the things the angel had been shouting about. And then a further few breaths. 

On what may have been the twentieth or thirtieth breath Crowley realized, with a flick of his tongue, that he could smell that same scent he'd picked up on Aziraphale's breath. His eyes scanned the kitchen. There was a plate of bonbons on the small table that had somehow survived being devoured in a single sitting. His own half-prepared hot cocoa from just before he'd run off the night before was still sitting on the counter, though it appeared that the whiskey had been disturbed and nearly drained of its contents. And.... _there._

Crowley gingerly picked up the glass tumbler that was sitting in the sink and confirmed the scent. There was a thin film of something blood-red at the bottom. He remembered what he'd been thinking about just before he'd been interrupted by the angel's awakening. A potion. _Witchcraft_.

But who would go to the trouble of tricking Aziraphale into drinking such a strange potion? Heaven, hoping he'd Fall after giving into carnal desires? It seemed far too creative for that lot. Some spurned romantic interest then? Someone who wasn't getting what they wanted from the angel? The very thought of it made Crowley's blood boil hot under his skin. What if whoever-it-was had already had their fun and then just abandoned Aziraphale in this state? By all the armies of Heaven and Hell, if he found out who had done this he would-

He resumed his deep breaths. 

Fix angel first. Enact vicious revenge fantasy second.

Okay. Okay. A potion. Witchcraft. What did he know about potions and witchcraft? 

Absolutely fuck-all, that's what. But he didn't _need_ to know anything about potions and witchcraft, because he knew a witch!

He had his mobile out and a video chat requested before he could even finish the thought process. Anathema answered after two rings, a cup of coffee in her hand and a plate of breakfast in front of her while Newt puttered around with his own tea in the background.

"Crowley?" the witch greeted with raised eyebrows. "This is a bit of a surprise. Have you...ever called me?"

"Yeah, hey, mornin' book girl, listen," the demon rushed, even less patience for pleasantries than usual. "I need help. Aziraphale's been poisoned with some kind of potion, and now there's something really wrong with him and I need to know how to reverse it."

Anathema raised an eyebrow. She looked far too... _not_ surprised. And was it just Crowley, or was that look Newt just shot over his shoulder a bit too _knowing_?

"Wrong how, exactly?" the witch asked.

Crowley opened his mouth to explain and found himself sputtering nonsensically instead. "He, uh- That is- Um…" He felt his face getting hot and regretted his choice of a _video_ call.

"Crowley," Anathema said, her voice almost maddeningly kind. "Are you sure you're not just a bit flustered? Why don't you just talk to Azira-"

Yes, that was _definitely_ a 'too knowing' look on Newt's face, and when coupled with Anathema's soft, _knowing_ tone, Crowley's eyes were soon narrowing and practically glowing. 

"Hold up just a fucking minute," the demon growled. "What do you know about this?"

Anathema must have seen the danger in the demon's eyes because she visibly faltered. "Well, I mean, I don't _know_ , but-"

_"What do you know about this, Anathema?!"_

Newt, for all his fluttery, embarrassingly pathetic anxiousness, pushed his way into the focus of the camera as if to physically block his girlfriend from Crowley's wrath. "She didn't do anything!" the young man yelled back (with only a slight waver to his voice). "Aziraphale was asking her about some magic stuff, and she did everything she could to talk him out of it, but apparently he didn't listen, and that's hardly her fault, so back off a bit, yeah?"

Crowley's instinct was to do a great deal more yelling, but if _Newton Pulsifer_ of all people was calling him out he reasoned it was time to take another breath and focus on the new information. "So, wait, you're telling me Aziraphale _wanted_ this? He did this to _himself_ ?" The very concept was positively absurd to him. "Why the _Heaven_ would Aziraphale want to turn himself into some kind of- some kind of bloody _nymphomaniac?_ "

The two humans on the other side of the video chat gaped, jaws dropped and eyebrows nearly flown off their heads. "He's become _what-now?!_ " Anathema practically shrieked. 

In order to accurately clarify the severity of the situation Crowley carried his phone out to the staircase and took three steps down to breach the barrier of his soundproofing miracle. He watched Anathema and Newt's expressions turn almost comically flustered, cheeks turning pink, then red, then blanching at the angel's continuing litany of profane propositions. When he thought they'd had enough, Crowley walked back up through the soundproofing, cutting the filthy flood of words off just as Aziraphale was calling up something about sticking his tongue up Crowley's-

Anathema's mouth was hanging and Newt's pallor gave the distinct impression that he might pass out. Eventually Anathema seemed to find a footing and managed to spit out, "What do you know about whatever he took?"

Crowley was ready and waiting to share whatever he could. "It was red. Smells spicy. Like, five-alarm-chili set on fire spicy."

Anathema considered quickly, a frown on her face. "Sounds like a spell to inspire attraction and desirability. That kind of potion shouldn't be nearly so potent as that though. Unless...is it possible he may have consumed the potion with alcohol?"

Crowley glared sardonically. "Have you _meet_ Aziraphale?"

"That's fair."

Crowley groaned and ran his free hand through his hair, yanking a fistful of it in frustration. "What do I _do_ about this, Anathema?"

"Okay, okay," the witch thought aloud. "It's a simple spell, normally, but combining it with alcohol likely caused a complete loss of inhibition. Basically anything that would have normally kept him from doing whatever he damn-well pleased has been temporarily cut off."

"Yes, okay, that's fine, but-" Crowley stopped suddenly. He stared at his phone with enormous, serpentine eyes. "Wait. _Wait._ Are...are you trying to tell me that...that Aziraphale actually _wants_ to do the stuff he's-" He choked on the words, a flaming heat travelling all the way from his toes to the top of his head. 

Newt quite suddenly decided to make himself scarce and left Anathema sitting alone, red and flustered. "Well, yes, it's just...um...I mean- Basically he's just...got no filter...or shame...at the moment."

Crowley felt like he was riding a roller-coaster of emotions that kept stopping at the top of enormous, gut-wrenching vertical drops. On the one hand, knowing that Aziraphale hadn't been _tricked_ into taking the potion meant that no one had been trying to hurt or take advantage of him. But on the other hand-

"Anathema, what if he'd gone out like this?" the demon exclaimed. "He could have-" He didn't think he could even give it voice without making himself violently ill. "He'd never have forgiven himself if...if something had happened with some random person!"

Anathema all but gaped at the implication. She opened and closed her mouth half a dozen times before finally finding her voice and groaning, "Oh my dear lord, you're both _such idiots_."

Crowley sputtered indignantly. " _Excuse me?!_ "

Anathema took a deep breath and sighed a very put-upon sigh. "Listen," she ordered. "This type of potion is designed to be directed at a specific 'target'. Namely, your dumb ass. This...lustful explosion, as it were, wouldn't have been triggered with anyone else, because the spell was _meant for you._ He wanted to move things forward, be more intimate, but was scared that you're not attracted to him that way, because you're both morons of a truly spectacular kind, so he was trying to do something to make himself more physically desirable."

If Crowley's brain had been a gerbil on a running wheel, it would have just keeled over dead and the wheel would currently be on fire. 

"Guh-whu?" he said, in a spectacular show of mental prowess.

Anathema closed her eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Everyone who _isn't_ you two can see from the other side of the damn planet that all you want is each other, but you're both stubbornly dense and relentlessly inept, and so here we are with an uncontrollably horny angel with no self-control and a demon who can't put two and two together with anything less than the calculating power of a supercomputer."

"Ngh- Guh- I- Uh-"

Anathema ignored Crowley's pending meltdown and pressed on, frustrated and fed up. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to go back down to Aziraphale and you're going to _talk_ to him. A potion like this is limited by metabolic breakdown, so depending on when he drank it it'll wear off naturally. So while you're waiting for that to happen you're going to _tell Aziraphale exactly how you feel about him_ and how you want your relationship. Then, when he's feeling like himself again, you two are going to get your dumb asses into a bed and get the fuck on with it already."

Crowley had run out of choked, abortive sounds to make and was now just staring unabashedly with his mouth hanging open. 

" _Do I make myself clear?_ "

Crowley made a sound that was most certainly _not_ a yelp and stammered out a ridiculous, "Y-yes ma'am!"

Anathema set her jaw at him and nodded once. "Good. Now get!"

Crowley fumbled his phone, stabbing at the disconnect button as he was moving. Just before he managed to hit it he heard the witch's voice mutter, "Jesus-fucking-Ch-"

Crowley made it as far as the top of the stairs before his higher-functioning thought processes kicked back in and he stopped, frozen to the spot. 

_Aziraphale...wants to be intimate with me._

_Aziraphale...wants to...be intimate...with ME._

It should have been a mind-blowingly wonderful revelation - and it absolutely was! But it was also a bit (extraordinarily) terrifying. All of a sudden a million new fears and inadequacies were rushing to the surface of the demon's already woefully self-depreciating psyche. Chief among them was the fact that he had no idea what kind of experience the angel already had concerning this particular topic and far, _far too much_ knowledge of the kind of experience he himself _didn't_ have. And that was just the tip of the insecurity iceberg.

"No, no, no," he verbally berated himself while also mentally shaking himself. "Anathema was right. This is stupid." (Loathe though he was to admit it.) "We just have to...talk. I can talk. Right? Yes. I can definitely talk. With Aziraphale. About sex."

Fuck, did he feel like throwing up.

"Dammit, I can do this!" he shouted at himself. He tore off his glasses, tossing them blindly down the hallway so he wouldn't be tempted to put them back on. 

He began to descend the stairs and hesitated. It would be awfully difficult to have a proper word with the angel with him ranting and raving like a rabid sex fiend. So before he went any further he snapped his fingers and imagined a gag in Aziraphale's mouth (trying, and failing, to ignore the kinkier implications) and continued down the stairs to blessed quiet. He let out a relieved sigh at the lack of screaming. At least this way _he_ would be able to get _his_ piece out, and then Aziraphale could have his turn once the potion wore off.

Even though the bookshop was now almost disturbingly silent, Crowley proceeded with the caution of a wild rabbit in hawk country. He rounded a bookshelf slowly and saw that Aziraphale was sitting with his eyes down at his lap. For a moment he thought that the angel had passed out, but he saw the tensing of his jaw against the gag as he approached. 

Crowley cleared his throat and Aziraphale tensed but didn't look up. Fine. That was fine. It might actually be easier to get through this conversation (or, uh...monologue, he supposed) without the angel making creepy, dark 'fuck me' eyes at him. 

He cleared his throat again. Miracled himself a chair. Sat down. Stood up. Banished the chair and began to pace. 

"Okay." He licked his lips. "Okay. So...I found a bit of the potion you took, and Anathema explained to me what it was for." He glanced at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye but didn't see any flickers of movement on the angel's face. "She said- Um. She said that you...um...that you were trying to make yourself more... _desirable_."

That earned a little twitch of the angel's shoulders. 

"So, um, first off, I suppose I should tell you that apparently you're not supposed to mix witch's potions with alcohol." Crowley tried for a little playful chuckle but got no reaction from the angel. He swallowed. Started again. "Angel, I-" His voice broke and he ground his teeth together, hard. The next thing he knew he was echoing frustrated growls all over the shop as a manic need to pace took him stomping around in every direction. 

"AHHHHHG! Why is this so stupidly hard?! Look, apparently- _Apparently_ you've been wanting to, what, move to a new level? And I, frankly, have _not_ been picking up on it because I've been so bloody terrified of moving too fast for you. So because I'm so stupid and blind, you got it in your head that I'm not interested, and fuck, that is such nonsense! So then you go and pull this stunt with this potion, and it backfired quite spectacularly, if we're being honest here, and really it's all pointless anyway because I _am_ interested, I'm _very fucking interested_ , angel. I've wanted you for millennia, and I'll always want you, you're literally the only being I've ever wanted in my long existence, and if you're not too frustrated with me after putting you through all of this, well-"

He finally stopped moving, leaned his head against the nearest bookshelf, and shoved his fingers into his too-small pockets. He finished the last bit of his rant in a quieter, more gentle tone, punctuated by a thick gulp. "-I'd, uh...I'd very much like to try the whole…'physical intimacy' thing…"

He took a deep breath and turned to look at Aziraphale. 

The angel was looking back at him with wide, brilliantly blue eyes. 

They stared at each other for several very long moments before Crowley said, "The blood potion wore off before I even started talking, didn't it?"

Aziraphale blinked once and nodded. 

"Lucifer save me," the demon muttered and rushed over to his angel. "Anathema was right, we're both fucking morons."

Kneeling on the floor in front of Aziraphale, Crowley made quick work of the gag and the cursed ropes and gave the angel what he hoped was an apologetic smile, but was probably more like an embarrassed grimace. 

Aziraphale lowered his eyes as he rubbed some of the feeling back into his wrists. He didn't speak right away which, frankly, shook Crowley more than he was letting on. But then, after a few quiet, awkward minutes, a small voice came from the mortified angel. "Did you really mean all that stuff about wanting me?" he asked without lifting his gaze. "Even after the things I said and the way I acted?"

_Idiots._ Anathema's voice rang through Crowley's head.

The demon reached forward with one trembling hand and lifted Aziraphale's chin so that they were eye-to-eye. "Every word," he promised, and the smile he offered was a genuine one, if a little sad as a result of their combined crippling stupidity. "I know I've never said it out loud, angel, but-" He swallowed and promised himself, mentally, that it was going to be okay, he didn't have to be frightened anymore. "-I love you." He almost discorporated on the spot just from the pure relief of having finally gotten it out. "I've loved you for so long, and that's never going to change, and I want you, all of you, any and every little piece that you're willing to gift me. Because that's what you are, Aziraphale: a gift. The only truly irreplaceable gift She ever gave me, including my own worthless existence."

And that last bit may have been just a tad too much because now the angel was crying and-

"Oof!"

_Oh._

Aziraphale had dropped down to the floor in front of Crowley, so close he was practically in the demon's lap, and before he could comprehend what was happening Crowley was wrapped in the warmest, softest (if a bit desperate) hug he could have ever imagined as his angel sobbed openly into his shoulder. 

Had they ever properly hugged before this? He didn't think they had. It wasn't exactly perfect, but as Crowley leaned into it and wrapped his own arms tight around Aziraphale's quaking body, he thought that really, it rather _was_ perfect. 

"Shh…" Crowley soothed. It wasn't an act he was overly familiar with or competent in, but for his angel he was certain he could manage it. "It's okay, angel. I've got you." He greedily nuzzled his face into fluffy white curls and then balanced it out by humming, "Just tell me what you need." 

After a few heartbeats and a few stuttering swallows of breath, Aziraphale pulled back far enough to lift a hand to rub at his tears. Then he looked at Crowley with glassy eyes, and the words that came from him were a lovely little plea. 

"Kiss me?"

Crowley let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He uncoiled his arms from around his angel's body and reached up to, instead, cup his soft, round face in both hands. Ever-so-gently, savouring the moment as much as he could, he pulled, bringing their faces together into a sweet, tender press of lips that slowed and synchronised their hearts.

Aziraphale's eyes had fluttered closed, but he opened them again when Crowley pulled just as gently back again. The angel's cheeks were pink, his eyes a little dreamy, and Crowley didn't think he'd ever seen him look so utterly content. 

"I love you too," he finally breathed. "In case it weren't obvious." He smiled and swiped at a few more tears that had fallen out of pure happiness. "And I'm officially canvassing for _that_ to be considered our first proper kiss." 

Crowley chuckled, heart positively exploding with joy. "Seconded."

* * *

Aziraphale finally bit into the crepes Crowley had made for him, and the demon watched with a positively dopey smile on his face. 

After the massive disaster of that morning he hadn't been certain Aziraphale would have any appetite to speak of, but of course his wonderful, hedonistic angel hadn't disappointed. He dug into the meal Crowley had prepared with enthusiasm, a bit more reserved than usual - almost shy, even - but grinning like a fool and clearly just as chestburstingly happy as the demon was.

_He loves me_ , Crowley thought as he leaned into his hand and watched Aziraphale pile berries and cream onto his next bite. He'd known, the way Aziraphale had known the demon loved him, but to have it finally said aloud made it _different_. More significant. More glorious and exciting and-

And the promise of intimacy - _Whatever type and amount my angel wants,_ Crowley swore to himself - well, that was definitely the homemade slow-boiled icing on top of the triple-layered, cream-cheese-filled chocolate fudge cake.

"Crowley, dearest-"

_Dearest…_ Crowley's heart fluttered.

"-I think these may honestly be the best crepes I've ever tasted."

Crowley beamed at the bright blue eyes that were filled with such overwhelming sincerity, but he also couldn't resist a bit of a scoff. "Angel, you've had crepes from every era of France's history since crepes were invented. I hardly think my recipe plucked off a stay-at-home-mom's cooking blog is the best you've ever had."

Aziraphale chuckled a bit at the 'stay-at-home-mom' part, suddenly overwhelmed with a visual of Crowley in a frilly apron, serving homemade pancakes to the Them. "Well, be that as it may, darling-"

_Darling!_

"-how often have I told you how much better food is when it's been prepared with love?" He drew out the last three words, giving Crowley a pointed look. The demon practically squirmed with pleasure. 

"I do so hope you'll make these for me again, dearest," the angel said with a radiant smile. With a slightly shy look he added, "Perhaps as breakfast in bed?"

Crowley's face grew hot, but he managed to restrain his natural instinct to sputter idiotically. _Nothing to be embarrassed about,_ he told himself firmly. _Absolutely nothing. This is Aziraphale. Your angel. Your angel who loves you and wants you and-_

The internal pep talk did little to calm the flush of heat, but it did help him to not melt into a puddle of snake-like goo. 

"Love to, angel," he said, brimming with honest desire to make his angel happy. "Any time you want. Every day, if you want." He winced a little then, thinking that perhaps the 'every day' bit was a wee bit presumptuous. _Too fast,_ he reminded himself. 

To Crowley's absolute delight, however, Aziraphale answered him with a smile so overflowing with love and pure delight that it very nearly took his breath away permanently. 

"You know, my love-" Aziraphale began, setting down his fork.

_Fuck me. 'My love!'_

"-this is all just terribly delicious and I'm so very happy with everything, but I believe I actually feel rather stuffed."

Crowley's eyebrows rose up beneath his hair. He couldn't recall ever - not even once - hearing Aziraphale claim to be _full_. He was fairly certain, as a matter of fact, that the angel was actually incapable of reaching that particular level of satiation. 

" _Really_?" was what the demon managed to respond.

Aziraphale pushed back from the table with a grace that could have only been described as ethereal. He slid his chair back into its place and wandered slowly past Crowley, trailing fingers across the demon's shoulder as he went. "Well," he drawled, slowly slinking out of the kitchen with a mischievous look on his face, "perhaps I might have room left for...one more treat…"

" _Ngk-"_

Ah. Good. The idiotic stutters had returned in full force.

Heart hammering a mad rhythm in his chest, Crowley scrambled out of his chair to follow his angel. Aziraphale had stopped in the hall and was holding out a hand, which the demon gratefully accepted. 

They moved down the hall together, a warm bundle of nerves and excitement and wonder, and the angel lead the demon to a room he'd never been in before. It was a small room, made to seem smaller by the fact that the walls were packed ceiling to floor in even more books, but the important thing was that there was a bed in it. And, Crowley observed with genuine surprise, there wasn't a lick of tartan to be seen. Rather, the large four-poster was covered in a luxuriously plush black comfortor, beneath which could be spied ruby-red silk sheets. 

A flash of realizing hit Crowley right between the eyes, and when he turned to Aziraphale for clarification it was to find the angel most _definitely_ blushing. 

"Yes, yes," he blustered, though he couldn't seem to wipe the smile from his face. "It made me feel...safe, and close… Shut up."

Crowley bit the inside of his cheek. He was struggling not to laugh aloud out of pure, incandescent joy. "Didn't say a word, angel."

Aziraphale huffed and continued to lead his demon by the hand until they were sat - side-by-side, gazing at each other - on the miraculously comfortable bed.

Crowley couldn't resist ( _I don't have to resist!_ ) reaching up to tuck a stray white curl behind his angel's ear. "You know," he said, keeping his voice low, "you really do look terribly tempting in that outfit."

Aziraphale's neck flushed hot pink. It was terribly endearing.

"Of course, you look terribly tempting in whatever you wear," the demon amended, making the angel's flush work its way up to his ears. 

"I'm nothing special," Aziraphale barely whispered. "You're the sinfully gorgeous one, all long and sleek and handsome, and those _bloody hips_ , Crowley, my lord!"

Crowley was having a hard time not burning up at the sudden burst of praise for his physical form, but he was intent to focus, instead, on the other bit the angel had said. "You are _beyond_ special," the demon growled, low and rumbling rather than with any kind of ill-will. He placed long fingers at Aziraphale's cheeks and pulled him so that their noses were nearly touching, amber eyes looking deep into azure ones. "You are the template for which the definition of the word was designed. Every inch of you is beautiful, desirable, absolutely, painfully glowing in a way that makes it hard to breathe. And I'll not hear a single argument to the contrary, you hear me angel?"

Aziraphale's eyes had gone glassy again, but instead of allowing any tears to fall he pressed forward and captured Crowley's lips in a kiss. 

Crowley's earlier kiss had been a tender thing. A promise. A revelation.

Aziraphale's kiss now was a declaration of intent. A contract signed in flesh pressed hotly together. A desperate shout of, "I love you, I want you, I need you". 

Crowley moaned into it, and then felt his body grow hot with embarrassment because this was hardly anything and yet _fuck_ if it didn't feel like _everything_.

Aziraphale's heart fluttered at the wonderful sound his demon had made. He immediately decided he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again for all eternity. He deepened the pressure of the kiss, nudged his tongue against Crowley's lips, and was thrilled when he was awarded with another moan as the demon's mouth opened to admit him. 

Some time later - it could have been a minute or a millennia - they pulled apart, gasping for breath regardless of physical need, faces flushed, lips swollen and wet. 

_Oh God,_ Aziraphale thought. _We've hardly done a thing, but I feel like I could die now and be happy._

Then, half a heartbeat later, after raking his gaze over his thoroughly dishevelled demon: _No...I'm greedy. I want more. I want it all._

The angel's hands drifted to clutch at the lapels of the demon's waistcoat. He swallowed, a thick kind of motion that was almost painful somehow. "My love," he sighed, biting his lip. "I want you so much."

Crowley shuddered visibly and did nothing to hide it. "Aziraphale…" He enunciated each syllable. "You're going to discorporate me, saying things like that." He ducked in for another kiss and, on instinct, drew the angel's lower lip between his teeth. He felt his chest constrict in the most amazing way when Aziraphale's little gasp became a positively gorgeous little whimper. 

"Angel…" His voice was husky, heavy with want, but he moved slow, his hands positively crawling to slid down the angel's chest and wrap around his waist. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

"Crowley…" Aziraphale's voice was longing but shaky, which made the demon pause with worry. "My darling, I'm afraid, welll, that you may have to...show me the ropes, as it were." His eyes were bright and trusting, full of faith in his demon to never lead him astray. 

The statement, however, had thrown Crowley for a loop. He blinked wide, surprised eyes at his angel, thoughts fluttering like butterflies in hurricane-level winds.

"Wait," he stammered, pulling back a little as though physically distancing himself from the shock. "Are you...you mean you've never…?"

The half-worded question made Aziraphale pull back in on himself, embarrassed by the demon's reaction. In lieu of opening his mouth and furthering his mortification, the angel simply shook his head.

For reasons he really couldn't properly explain, this information had Crowley at a loss, totally flabbergasted. "Wha- I mean- Not even with _Wilde_?" It was a testament to his befuddlement that he managed to spit out the author's name without snarling. 

"No!" Aziraphale exclaimed, frustrated. His tone finally knocked Crowley out of the stupified trance he'd fallen into. 

Desperate to backtrack and get that look off his dear Aziraphale's face, Crowley wrapped his fingers around the angel's shoulders and rubbed them in what he thought was a comforting manner. "Hey, no, wait, I'm sorry," he stumbled over the words, his face a rather hot pink shade. "I'm just a bit surprised because, uh, well... _neitherhaveI_."

Now it was Aziraphale's time to gape like a wide-mouthed bass. "What?" he exclaimed, actually making Crowley jump a little. "B-but- But you're- You're-!"

"A demon?" Crowley asked, less than amused. 

" _Gorgeous_!" Aziraphale shouted half a second later. "You're a blessed sex symbol! Humans have been ogling you nonstop since the bloody beginning!" 

Crowley felt certain that his face was actually encapsulated in hellfire. "Okay, first off," he grumbled, desperately reaching to regain control of the situation, "at least half of those humans have been ogling _you_ , angel, and don't argue with me because I've watched them with no small amount of jealous fury."

The declaration had Aziraphale's heart fluttering again. 

"And second," Crowley continued, jutting out his jaw in a somewhat petulant manner, "I've never been interested-" He coughed and averted his eyes. "-yess it was...you."

There was a short moment of embarrassed silence, and then Aziraphale took pity, lifting Crowley's chin to place a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. His eyes were jovial and playful when he pulled back. "We're both such ridiculous fools, aren't we?"

Crowley managed to crack a smile. "That seems to be the going opinion at the moment, yes." He nuzzled his nose against Aziraphale's and let his hands linger tentatively down toward the angel's stomach. "I suppose we could...figure it out together?" He lowered his head again but looked up at his angel from under dark eyelashes. "Go...slow?" he added as an afterthought. 

Aziraphale gazed into his demon's eyes, feeling his chest begin to fill again with that thrill of love and desire. _Those eyes, oh Lord…_

"Oh darling," he purred and ducked to the side to let his lips ghost along Crowley's throat. "I think, perhaps, we can set the pace as we go, hmm?"

Crowley, if given the rest of his existence to think about it, could not have accurately explained just how those words made him feel. Happy? Yes. Horny as hell? Absolutely. But there was something else, some deep-down glow that had begun burning fast and in earnest. It was something like redemption, something like being forgiven, and something like being wrapped in a warm, endless blanket of pure love. 

He very nearly began to cry. 

Instead, he bit down on the urge and pressed all that glowing hot emotion into the next kiss. It was wild and desperately and barely restrained, but just restrained enough to convey the message: _I want you, I want you so much, I have always wanted you and I will always want you, but I promise, I swear, angel, beautiful, amazing, perfect angel, I will go exactly the speed you want, anything you want, everything you want-_

Aziraphale heard every word and returned the message with his own fervent passion: _All of it, all of you, anything and everything, oh please, my dearest, my love, my sweet, gorgeous demon, my everything, I need you, please, I need all of you-_

The kiss devoured them both for a long time. They were lost in it, consumed with it, overwhelmed by it. 

Then there was more. 

Aziraphale was the first to make a move, exactly as Crowley intended. _Your speed, angel. All yours._

The angel's fingers trailed up the demon's arms, across his shoulders, down his collar, until they found the buttons on his waistcoat. He popped one, two, three, and felt Crowley shudder a little with each. The demon pulled away from the angel's lips long enough to stare into his eyes with intense longing. While holding Aziraphale's gaze, Crowley shrugged the waistcoat off his shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Without preamble Aziraphale reached for Crowley's shirt and yanked it up with haste. 

"Eager, angel?" Crowley gasped - trying to keep it from sounding like a yelp - as Aziraphale ripped the offending garment up over the demon's head and tossed it across the room. 

The angel bit his lip and ran his fingers down the demon's lean torso, savouring every inch of flesh, licking his lips as he went. Crowley was terrified to breathe, certain he had to be having a particularly vivid dream. 

"Crowley…" said Aziraphale, voice low and heavy. "You're so lovely…" One hand followed the curve of a hip, while the other traced the line of his sternum until it reached the waist of his trousers. Then his head was ducking forward. 

Crowley hissed in a sharp breath as Aziraphale's tongue wound its way around one sensitive nipple. "F-fuck, angel," he trembled. 

Aziraphale looked up into the demon's eyes, guessed that the profanity had been of the pleasurable variety, and held the gaze while sucking the same nipple into his mouth. 

Crowley very nearly discorporated on the spot. 

Aziraphale trailed his tongue across the demon's chest, gave some attention to the other nipple while Crowley made weak, whimpering sounds that he would never own up to later.

"You're so delicious, my love," the angel moaned against flushed skin.

"Nghnk-" Crowley keened.

Aziraphale crawled over his demon, pressing him gently-but-firmly down into the mattress. Crowley manage to find the brainpower to slither backward until his head and shoulders were up against the softest pillows he'd ever felt. Aziraphale followed him on hands and knees, crawling up over the demon like a wolf upon its meal.

"Fuck, angel," Crowley breathed. "You are so fucking hot."

Aziraphale paused halfway up Crowley's body. His eyes were wide - _So fucking blue…_ \- and surprised. "You really think so?" he asked, a little quiet, a little shaky.

Crowley saw the spark of doubt in his angel's eyes and recalled what had brought them to this point in the first place. _(He was scared that you aren't attracted to him that way.)_

"Angel," the demon growled, just a hint of a threat in the sound. "You are the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen, and if you doubt that for even a second-" He bit down on his nervousness and embarrassment long enough to thrust his hips up and draw the wide-eyed angel's attention to the way his trousers were straining fit to burst. "-you're _definitely_ a fucking idiot."

Aziraphale let out a little burst of breath and bit his lip hard. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, like he had to process something free of visual cues. Then he opened those brilliant blue orbs, completed the final few steps of his crawl, and leaned up so that he was straddling Crowley's hips. 

Crowley's breath hitched. 

Aziraphale reached up and slid the unbuttoned blue shirt from his arms and let it fall to the sheets. The white tee came next, pulled slowly up past his soft belly and strong chest, up over his head and onto the floor. He was worrying his lower lip, but he flushed happily at the way Crowley's eyes were roving his body, hungry, ravenous, barely restrained. 

"Give me your hands, love," the angel begged, holding out his own. 

Crowley had complied half a heartbeat before Aziraphale had finished asking. 

Aziraphale grinned. "Eager, demon?" he teased.

"As a fucking beaver, angel," Crowley replied, grinning like a damned fool. "There has never been any being on this planet more eager for anything in the past six millenia."

Aziraphale couldn't supress the little chuckle, but he followed it up by lifting his demon's hands to his lips, laying gentle kisses along his knuckles, his palms, the pulse-point of his wrists. It was slow, langorious, torturously passionate. It was steeped in a loving, tender kind of desire that had every muscle in Crowley's poor body shuddering with the disbelief that this was really happening. His angel was truly loving him, worshipping him, giving him every-

" _SHIT-"_

Crowley's brain almost short-circuited in a puff of acrid black smoke as Aziraphale drew two long fingers into his mouth as far as they could go and _sucked._ "Angel!" the demon squeeked, coughed, and squeeked again when Aziraphale swallowed around the digits. "What-? How-? You-?"

The angel _very_ slowly pulled the fingers out of his mouth with an obscene wet noise and smiled innocently. "Lack of experience does not equate to complete ignorance, my love," he cooed while running Crowley's wet fingers along his lower lip. "I may have had a hand in-" He cleared his throat and flushed a beautiful, pleased pink. "-the invention of erotic literature."

Crowley's jaw dropped. "You're fucking with me."

Aziraphale leaned forward, brushed his lips against Crowley's ear. "Not quite yet, but that's the idea, my darling."

Crowley's sputtering might have been comical if it wasn't so wonderfully endearing. 

"Sweet mother of- _Fuck,_ angel! Right! That's it! _That's it_!"

Aziraphale yelped in surprise as Crowley snatched him by the hips and performed a complicated maneuver that reversed their positions. Somehow both of the angel's wrists had become locked in one of the demon's lithe hands.

For a brief moment Aziraphale thought he'd done something wrong, angered the demon somehow. Then he saw the way Crowley's eyes were blown to full amber and enormous black pupils. He saw the way the demon was biting his lip so hard it threatened to bleed. He saw the way his love's body trembled with the effort of holding back. 

"Don't," Aziraphale whispered. In the moment the word left his mouth Crowley's face darkened, his grip on the angel's wrists slackened, but Aziraphale quickly added, "Dont' stop. Don't hold back. I want everything you have to give."

Crowley hissed. He looked uncertain, but all the same his grip on Aziraphale's wrists tightened again. "I don't think you underssstand what you're asssking, angel." He couldn't keep the hiss from his voice. The sound of it send a thrill through Aziraphale's body that settled squarely on his crotch. 

Mirroring Crowley's prior motion, the angel ground his hips forward and watched with glee as the demon groaned and shuddered. "I know precisely what I'm asking," Aziraphale sighed. "I want you to take me dearest. I want you to use me as you see fit."

This time Crowley's shudder turned into a full-blown thrust that drove the hardness of his erection into the angel's. 

"Want to," the demon growled, eyes burning with desire. "Want to take you, own you, use you, claim you, make you mine, only mine, only ever mine."

Aziraphale felt any ability to breathe leave him all at once. "Yes, only yours. Only ever yours. For all eternity, my love. Stake you claim and it shall never be disputed.'

Crowley's willpower shattered all at once. Without warning he struck, snakeline in his movements, to claim his angel's throat with desperate fangs. Aziraphale cried aloud at the sharp bite of pain, but before Crowley could register the sound and consider pulling back the angel was moaning. It was a wanton, pleading noise that made the demon's whole body feel like it had gone a hot, violent red. He gnawed on the bit of skin a moment longer, sucked it hard, then pulled off and ran his gentle, loving tongue along the wound, lapping up the twin trails of blood that flowed from the small punctures. 

"Taste so good," Crowley breathed, throaty and low and hot. "Fuck, angel, you taste so fucking good."

Aziraphale's whole body trembled with the unusual mixture of pleasure and pain. "Then _devour me_ , my love," he suggested through kiss-flushed lips. "Devour me until your hunger is satisfied." 

The hiss that Crowley produced shook his whole body. "Can't sssay thingsss like that, angel," he groaned. " 'sss not fair...you'll make me embarrasss myself before I can take care of you."

Aziraphale reached up to press strong fingers into Crowley's hips, digging deep in a sensuous massage that had the demon's body swaying into the sensation. "I thought you _liked_ the fact that I'm a bit of a bastard." He rolled his own hips on the last word and by complete chance he met Crowley's sway so that their cocks met with not an insignificant amount of pressure. Dual moans echoed through the room and left angel and demon gasping in flushed surprise. 

"Oh fuck, angel," Crowley whimpered. "I-I need...I need... _fuck_." His thoughts were so discordant, but Aziraphale was able to translate the quickening gyration of the demon's hips. 

"Take me, darling," the angel moaned. "Whichever way you want me, please, I just want you so badly."

Crowley's eyes were feral as he slid sinewously down Aziraphale's body and hooked long fingers into the waiste of the angel's trousers. A moment later those same trousers were on the floor, and his pants joined them. Aziraphale felt certain that some kind of hasty miracle had been involved, but he couldn't care less because the loss of the clothing and the rush of cool air on his skin had his cock twitching happily. 

A moment later he was pressing his head back into the pillows behind him with such force he could have burst them from the pressure. He might have made some kind of noise but he wasn't quite certain because all of his other senses had momentarily gone dead in order to let him focus on the fact that Crowley's hot, wet mouth was wrapped around his cock.

"Oh!" the angel gasped when his synapses began to realign. "O-oh lord, Crowley!"

Crowley hummed in response, sending shivers of pleasure through the angel. He mentally high-fived himself when Aziraphale's weak attempts at praise devolved into a series of desperate, pleading little gasps. 

The demon licked a long, twisting path from root to tip and back again multiple times, before wrapping his hand around the base of Aziraphale's cock and stroking, slow and firm, as he lavished the head with attention from his tongue. 

"F-fuck, Crowley! Oh _fuck!_ "

Crowley pulled his mouth away with a lovely little wet noise and grinned up at Aziraphale with a devilish lick of his lips. " _Language_ , angel!" he teasted as he pulled his slick hand up and down his lover's length. "Goodness, what would Heaven think?"

Aziraphale thrust up into Crowley's fist and growled. "I don't give a _fuck_ what they think!" he spat as he writhed. 

Crowley nearly shook himself apart then and there. "Angel," he half-hissed, half-chuckled, "that may be the hottessst thing I've ever heard anyone say in the hissstory of the Earth." He dove down to bite and suck a deep red mark into the angel's plush thigh, trembling at the wonderful sounds he recieved in exchange. "I don't know how much of this I can handle, honestly," the demon moaned as he continued to stroke lovingly. "You're so fucking gorgeousss like this, angel." He struck hard on the opposite thigh, drawing a bit of blood that felt like ambrosia as it slid across his tongue. "Feelssss like I'm gonna dissscorporate just lissstening to you." He moved back to lick a long stripe up Aziraphale's trembling body. His hand moved faster as he captured the angel's mouth and sucked hard on that plush lower lip. "You make such pretty noises…" he groaned against his angel's mouth. "Wonder what kind of noises you'd make as you fuck me."

Aziraphale's fluttering eyelids shot open. Crowley wondered if perhaps that had been a bit too far. But in the following heartbeat Aziraphale had shifted, and the demon couldn't swallow the cry that flew from him as he was easily flipped through the air. He found himself helplessly pinned as the full power of the Guardian of the Eastern Gate bore down on top of him. 

"And _you_ talk to _me_ of things I can't say?" the angel growled, his eyes bright and burning. "Dearest, it was almost all over just then! In fact the, the only thing that held me back-" He leaned down close so that their bodies were pressed together and his mouth was hot against the demon's jaw. "-is that now I'm terribly curious about the sounds _you'll_ make when I fuck you…"

Crowley's whole body trembled. He'd said it on instinct, something that had just come out with his even thinking about it, but hearing it come out of Aziraphale's mouth made it a real possibility that he suddenly wanted, craved, yearned for, _needed_.

"Yesss, pleassse, angel," he whined, hips moving of their own accord. "Want you, need you, need to feel you inside me, filling me, using me, pleassse, _pleassse_!"

Aziraphale's eyes weren't capable of the same kind of instantly recognizable reaction as Crowley's, but they were terribly expressive. There was no mistaking the heat in them at that moment. "Since you asked so nicely," he groaned. 

Crowley had no time to comprehend that the angel was really going to do it before there was a miraculously slick finger massaging him, teasing, probing, and - _Oh! Satan, fuck, that feels so good, angel!_ He wasn't certain if he'd said it aloud or just thought it, but Aziraphale responded none-the-less by slowly, gently pushing that first finger in to the knuckle.

"How's that, love?" the angel purred, breathing hot against the demon's throat. He moved the finger slowly, carefully, but pressed deep all the same. 

"Sssss fucking fantassstic, angel," Crowley gasped, arching his back. "M-more pleassse-!" His desperate little hissing earned him a second finger before he'd even finished asking. His hips stuttered at the addition. "Fff- _More_ , angel!"

Aziraphale's pace didn't change, though he was now scissoring his fingers to help stretch Crowley's tight muscle. "We mustn't rush, dearest," he cooed against the demon's collarbone. "I'd be ever-so-upset if I were to hurt you in my haste."

Another whine escaped Crowley's lips. He couldn't stop the way his hips were thrusting to meet the angel's hand. "Can't wait," he begged. "Pleassse, angel! Need you! Need you now, you won't hurt me, I ssswear!"

Aziraphale leaned up to face his demon eye-to-eye and Crowley could see the pure desire there, just waiting to be set free. The angel held his gaze as he pressed a third finger in. He watched the reaction closely and smiled, pleased. "So lovely, my dearest," the angel praised. "So gorgeous and ready and willing for me." The three fingers moved with a steady rhythm, looped around to stroke the most sensitive spot, drawing all manner of pretty moans. "You're going to feel so good wrapped around me, darling."

The words struck a chord with the demon, and suddenly he was wrapped around Aziraphale in every way that he could be. Long legs wrapped around the angel's hips, drawing him close. Arms went around the angel's neck, pulling them together into another mind-blowing kiss. 

" _Pleasssse_ ," the demon begged again once he'd pulled away.

Aziraphale's eyes were blown out and half-lidded. His voice was heavy when he replied, "How can I say no to that?"

There was a shrill whine from Crowley's throat as the angel's fingers were removed, but in that same moment there was the looming, wonderful pressure as Aziraphale began to press his throbbing cock inside. The demon managed to bit back a hiss, but couldn't stop the gasp as his tight muscles were stretched even further than before. "Don't sssstop!" he groaned before Aziraphale could make any second guesses. "Keep going! Ah! F-fuck! Keep going!"

Aziraphale didn't respond - he wasn't certain he could have, given the demon's tightness around him causing his brain to misfire - but he did keep going. Little by little he moved forward at Crowley's urging until they were pressed together as close as they could physically get, and then he let out a desperate, hot breath. "Good lord, Crowley," he moaned long and loud. "It feels like your body was made for me." It was a foolishly sentimental thing to say, and yet-

"It was," Crowley insisted. His voice wasn't much more than a wistful whisper, but Aziraphale heard it. "Only for you, angel. Only ever for you."

The declaration made Aziraphale feel desperately hot all over.

Then he was moving. Slow, gentle movements at first, carefully pulling out and pushing back in and revelling every sensation. At his demon's bequest he moved a little faster, a little less measured. 

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale moaned. "Love, you're so tight and warm, you feel _amazing_ -"

"Sssso do you, angel," the demon groaned in response. His hands had moved up to grasp the pillows on either side of his head in a desperate bid to ground himself. "Ah, ssso good, angel.... Sssooo- _Fuck!_ "

Aziraphale grinned as his demon spasmed and writhed beneath him. He pulled back and thrust again, angling for the same spot and drinking in the beautiful sound sthe demon made as his prostate was punished again and again. 

Crowley was seeing stars. Hell, he was seeing entire galaxies. He could feel a pressure building deep in his belly and couldn't decide whether he wanted it to be over yet. His body was begging for release, crying out for it, but he also wanted this to last forever, to feel like this _forever_.

Aziraphale seemed to feel his indecision and leaned forward to nibble a bruise onto the demon's collar. "Don't hold back, love," he whispered, and delighted in Crowley's shivers. "You needn't worry about it ending too soon." He leaned into Crowley's ear as his hips began to pump harder and faster. "I plan to keep pleasuring you until neither of us can stand, my love."

"F- _fuck! 'Zirahale!"_ Crowley cried. At the angel's words the demon fell apart, shattering to pieces around his lover. The stars behind his eyes burst into glorious fireworks that fell back down upon his body, sparks lighting up every inch of his skin as he made a wonderful, hot mess of his own body. 

Aziraphale cried aloud as his lover's muscles clenched around him. His body was so hot, drenched in sweat, and he could feel something hurtling toward him like a freight train. His steady rhythm faltered, falling into a series of desperate jerks and pulls, and suddenly he was facing down the cresting edge of a tsunami. It crashed over him all at once, leaving him gasping for air, ever muscle in his body screaming with sensation. 

By the time the angel and the demon began to come down from their respective highs it was to find that Aziraphale had collapsed atop Crowley and Crowley had, without realizing he was doing it, snaked his arms comfortingly around his angel's body. They were both slick with sweat, breathing as though they'd run a hundred marathons. 

Aziraphale propped himself up on his elbows so he could gaze into his demon's eyes. What he saw there had his heart fluttering in its cage. Crowley was blissed out, completely debauched, and utterly, insanely, in lover. The angel only hoped he looked half as good to his lover in that moment. 

A slow smile spread across Crowley's face. His eyes flicked behind Aziraphale and the smile became a grin. "S' that supposed to happen?" he inquired, voice teasing.

Aziraphale blinked stupidly for a moment before flexing his shoulders and realizing that his wings were out and draped rather languorously over the two of them. The angel felt his face warm and forced out a weak chuckle. "I, uh...wouldn't know," he admitted with a grin. "When did-?"

Crowley's grin grew wider. "Sometime between ' _fuck you feel magnificent_ ' and a series of incomprehensible screams."

Aziraphale flushed harder and opened his mouth to defend himself before quickly clamping down on the urge. He needn't be embarrassed, he told himself. After all, this was Crowley. This was the love of his life. This was-

"My everything."

Crowley cocked his head to one side and blinked, confused. "What's that, angel?"

Aziraphale chuckled genuinely this time and reached a hand up to run his fingers through Crowley's beautiful, fiery hair. The demon made a sound partway between a hiss and a purr and leaned into the fingers, eyes fluttering closed. "I was just thinking aloud," the angel whispered, "about how you're absolutely _everything_ to me."

Crowley's eyes reopened. There was a look in them that Aziraphale had seen far too many times for his liking. "Don't be silly," the angel scoffed half-heartedly. "You have your books, your wine, a whole plant full of delicious food-"

He would have gone on, but Aziraphale cut him off with a kiss that stole the words from the demon's lips. "I would give it all up," the angel breathed against his lover's mouth. "If I could just stay here in bed with you for the rest of eternity."

Crowley's eyes were alight with happiness, but that stubborn hint of self-doubt remained. "You'd get bored of me eventually," he said, trying (and failing) for nonchalant. 

Aziraphale pulled his hand from fiery locks to clamp down on Crowley's jaw, holding him quite still so that wide, amber eyes stared, surprised, into his own blue. "Don't you dare, for a second, doubt the enormity of my love for you, Anthony J. Crowley," he commanded.

Once again Crowley glimpsed the hidden power of the Guardian of the Easter Gate and shuddered against an onslaught of rejuvenated arousal. "Yessir," the demon agreed with a gulp. At a second thought he added, "Love you too, angel. So much I worry I might actually burst into holy fire." He chuckled and reached to stroke a few of Aziraphale's primary feathers. The touch made a shiver go down the angel's spine. The demon grinned. "They should revoke my demon card, honestly. Can't be right for a hellspawn to be able to love this much."

Aziraphale looked, for a moment, as if he might cry. But then his lips were on Crowley's again and the taste of the kiss was exhaulted, loving bliss.

They stayed that way for a while, enjoying the taste of one another while Crowley's fingers wove dexterously through Aziraphale's feathers. He could feel Aziraphale's own arousal beginning to resurface and couldn't help pulling back to shoot a devilish smirk at the angel. "I seem to recall you saying something about going until neither of us could walk." He pressed a few fingers into the sensitive spot between the wing joints and revelled in the way Aziraphale squirmed and moaned under his breath. "That wasn't just talk, was it?" the demon teased.

The angel took a handful of the demon's hair in hand and gave a slightly-more-than-firm tug. He let out a little laugh of joy at the way Crowley groaned wantonly. "It seems quite humorous now," he admitted, "that I ever worried about a lack of desire." 

Crowley smirked. "Or that I never thought you'd want this kind of intimacy." He reached up to wrap a hand around the back of the angel's neck. "Idiots, the witch said, and she wasn't wrong."

Aziraphale snorted and dissolved into giggles. "I really should apologize to Ms Device," he said. "She did her best to convince me to stay away from those silly spells. I hope you didn't scare her too much when you spoke with her, dearest. You do have a tendency to get rather, well...demonic, when you're perturbed." 

To the angel's surprise, Crowley looked rather cowed at the comment. "Uh, truth is," he said after clearing his throat, "she actually kinda scared me a bit."

Aziraphale's eyebrows were in danger of escaping his forehead.

"Hey, that girl has a major, badass, big sister vibe going for her!"

"You're older than the entire lifespan of her species!"

"She has a very stern voice!"

"And you call yourself a demon."

Crowley growled and twisted their bodies until he was in the power position, pining his angel to the bed with an arm across his chest. They were both laughing like absolute fools. 

Crowley was still chuckling at the thought of Anathema wagging a disciplinary finger at them both when Aziraphale lifted his head to nip playfully at the demon's jaw. "You know, we were a bit all over the place there," he began, "which, I suppose is to be expected with it being our first time and all…" He trailed off until Crowley raised his eyebrows in a 'Go on' manner.

"Well, the angel continued, "it's just that I do seem to recall that before we got distracted with other...techniques, you had implied that you were going to...ahem... _devour_ me."

Crowley's pupils dilated in a heartbeat, but it was simply in his nature to play it cool. "If I recall, _angel dearest_ ," he teased, "it was, in fact, you begging to be dvoured."

Aziraphale waved a hand as though the distinction was of no consequence. "Semantics," he insisted.

Crowley growled low in his throat. "You're an insatiable little angel, aren't you?" he purred. He made a slithering movement with his hips that put a lovely bit of pressure and friction on Aziraphale's groin and hummed at the angel's wanton squirming. "You want the big, bad demon to take care of you?"

Aziraphale made a longing, guttural noise and thrust his body up to meet the demon's. "If you'd be ever so kind, my dear."

Crowley lunged forward, snapping his fangs in the angel's face, but there was an absolutely enraptured grin on his face. "M' not _kind_ ," he hissed playfully. "You're gonna get it for that, angel."

"Oh my," Aziraphale replied with positively dripping quantities of sarcasm. "The demon is angry with me. Whatever shall I- Oh, oh _lord!_ "

The angel's back arched with the force of the sudden onslaught of sensation. Crowley had slithered down without any further preamble and taken Aziraphale's entire length into his throat at once. The angel had just enough brainpower left to realize that the wily serpent had no gag reflex at all, and then any semblance of rational thought went out the window as Crowley swallowed around him. The sensation was undeniably sinful in every way and had the angel writhing and keening for more.

Crowley hummed his approval, which in turn elicited further wonderful reactions. He licked and sucked and swallowed, devouring every inch, while his hands roamed the angel's thighs, fingers digging in just deep enough to bruise. 

" _Crowley!_ " Aziraphale cried his name like it was a prayer, and oh, didn't that concept go straight to the demon's cock. "Crowley! Love, d-dearest! F-fuck!" The angel began to stutter incoherently as the demon's forked tongue twisted playfully around his length. "You're s-so good, dearest! S-so fucking _good_!"

Crowley's amber eyes flashed up at the angel, and because Aziraphale had been thoroughly enjoying the view he saw the burst of arousal there. Somehow, despite his mind being absolutely melted by the demon's ministrations, the angel managed to put two and two together.

"You're so good for me, darling," the angel sighed and squirmed beneath Crowley's touch. "You're absolutely divine, perfect for me in every way, my love, my perfect, gorgeous demon."

Crowley's movements stuttered for a moment, and his rear wiggled a little, but then he was back at it, taking Aziraphale as deep as he could go, over and over, building a beautiful tempo.

"You take such good care of me, my love," the angel sighed, breathless. "So good and kind and wonderful to me." Crowley gulped deep around the angel, making his words shake. "So f-fucking g-good to me, my amazing, loving, magnificent demon!"

Crowley had snaked a hand down to attend himself, and he came quite suddenly and unexpectedly at the angel's onslaught of praise. The way his mouth and throat twitched had Aziraphale screaming something in blessed _Korean_ , of all things. A moment later the angel fell over the edge too, and Crowley savored every salty-sweet drop. 

After, Crowley managed to climb up far enough to collapse in Aziraphale's arms, nuzzling his head deep against the angel's throat. "I live here now," he mumbled. "Jus' so y'know." He would broach no argument on this topic, which made it that much better when the angel pulled his pristine white wings around the pair of them. 

"Of course, my love," Aziraphale said with a soft smile. "In fact, I rather think it prudent for us to continue to explore our new options together for the foreseeable future. That is, of course, if you're amenable."

Crowley captured Aziraphale's mouth in a kiss so passionate it went on for day. 

"Oh, angel...I'm _definitely_ amenable."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, please check out my blog, http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you can find links to my original novels, social media, and more! <3 I also live for your comments, so please let me know what you thought!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Desperate Desire (complete, 2 parts)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387527) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Podfic] A Desperate Desire (complete, 2 parts)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387527) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)




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